September 10, 2001
I am better than everyone. I am perfect. I don't have to think or work or feel. I am average joe america. I am a slut. I am a corporate shill. Now I'm making my body available to the man. I'm going to be a guinea pig for cash. I get to test pain meds. I'm going to tell everyone I'm being hospitalized for nervous exhaustion. God bless America.
Sept. 5, 2001
I hate the lack of rock stars with balls? Have they all cleaned up or been cleaned up? That's some grade A bull shit, holmes. What's flying with that Watson? It's just some bull shit. It seems like rock stars used to be whiskey and now they're nestea. I wish Macy Gray would sober up or maybe some scandal would make it my way. If only. I like the idea of spoilt childish rock stars pulling tricks and stunts like Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. How fun that would be for my world. I wish I felt more people were out of control. It all seems to wash up in the same place, where things in the media begin and where they end. I don't see a clear line anywhere. I want a rock star that can't be controlled. I have to settle for a mad scientist, for now. He'll do me just fine.
Sept. 3, 2001
Today I made pot pie. I haven't answered the phone and I don't really want to. My hair is still blue and it gives the world an excuse to stare at me, it seems. Obviously I knew people would stare before I took the steps of dying it. But, the funny thing is, people stared at me anyway. When I had a simple nose ring and long brown hair they still stared. There must be something amusing about a 6ft. tall Bot. Val says he can't blame them. I love Val. He adores me. Our year anniversary is in a few weeks. Maybe I'll buy him a big crate of red bull or a book about vikings. Mmm, Val my viking king.
August 3, 2001
I tried out for the weakest link today. I must say it's quite the scam. Unfortunately I didn't make it, although I got most of my questions right. My friend who did make it told me that they couldn't pick me because my hair is blue. Apparently NBC only approves of those with natural hair. I guess I'm not network television material. I came I saw I alternified.
I am too alternified for America. How fucked is that?
Congrats bot. There are thoughts in my head and you get to hear them. It's been a new experience for me, annebot. I really didn't know that things could go this way. I never really knew what was out there. I'm a new bot, eyes open and glaring. Glaring at the overwhelming need for me to regulate. It has been shoved in my face that the eighties fashions are back in style. I ignored it long as possible. My world can and should not have to handle that. Will the kids learn? Am I one of them? No, you are a bot.
My thoughts today are especially topical.
I can't help but notice this whole dot com thing has left most of my people in a funk. Most of my friends worked for a dot com, many of them layed off here in Austin. I have to wonder if this is really such a big deal. Yeah, they're out of work, it sucks. But, this isn't an unprecedented occurence. I saw a special on PBS that discussed the deregulation of the airline industry in the 1970s. I have to say that there were many similarities: lay offs, cut throat competition, even massive media attention. It doesn't stop there. Frank Lorenzo is the modern day Bill Gates. Lorenzo ran United Airlines (it could be continental, I might be wrong about that). He definitely employed some seemingly familiar dick head tactics. Lorenzo's airline would fire a batch of employees, 2,000 or so and then tell them they could come back to work for a reduced wage and fewer benefits. He would bank on the other airlines that were going out of business (because of the deregulation by the government) and gain from their defeat. It was once thought that airline travel would better humanity, Charles Lindberg said that. He was right, he really was. Aviation was new and it created all sorts of possibilities that were previously impossible. The 70s experienced an explotion in commercial air travel. People could now go on vacation for less money and business travellers could get where they needed to go. To a certain extent air travel was helped by the government, it would falsely raise the prices of commercial plane tickets to ensure growth of the individual airlines. The problem was that the airlines didn't have many travellers, due to the cost. Once the governement deregulated it then everyone and their sister started an airline. Many of them failed, much like many of the .com's failed. We have to ask ourselves how useful were those .com's anyway? It was the latest gold rush, that's all. We'll bounce back, we just have to learn that to get something you have to give something. What do you do that is dynamic, what do you do that gives anything to anyone they couldn't get somewhere else? Little forethought and too much capital equals disaster, if we couldn't see that coming then we're dolts indeed.
flashback:
Refreshed. Revitalized.
Resassed. (not to be confused with re-assed)
I had an epiphany today. I realized that I'm dreadfully picky. It's not a bad thing to be picky but it makes life more complicated. This poor guy hit on me today and I brushed him off because 1. I was on the way to a test 2. I didn't like his pants 3. I didn't trust him. These things may seem trivial, but when he was talking to me I kept wondering, why is he talking to me? why is he wearing those pants? Such a personal thing to put on this page, but really. I'm a pickster. I pick selectively. There are exactly three to five men in the world I'd consider dating at any given time. I'm pretty sure only one of them speaks English. But what I love more than any of this is the striking number of web pages I've seen where people poor their hearts out in hopes of meeting someone. Doesn't that seem like you're throwing a mile long net off the side of a boat to catch your car keys you dropped? This page is never going to result in anyone getting a date with me or meeting me unless I'd know you before you've read this. I cannot fathom a man reading this, *assuming* he knows me enough to like me and that I'd like him back. It could never happen. Maybe that's pickiness, maybe it's a sass-attack. I'm so picky. It's good to be me. So why write this? Why write any of this? In hopes of entertaining myself and others, possibly. In hopes of finding some comforting way of expression. But the most likely, the kicker, shameless self promotion, absolutely shameless.
Can you blame a gal like me for doing what I do?
The answer is NO